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love

Even now, when you communicate with me, you do so with kindness and even when you’re trying to be direct, I can feel you’re trying not to hurt me.

We are equals. We were both going through transitions and for that there can be no blame. It was the wrong time for us, despite feeling like we had such a good thing going.

A relisation came to me today: I just wasn’t present in the relationship. I was hiding my identity and because of that I bred a fear that directly affected our relationship. You were so very patient and on ocassion you told me about your patience and I think most of the time I reacted in a way that showed anger, that I didn’t want to be pitied. I can’t remember absorbing your pain. You willed yourself to stay with me. And I know you’re forgiving me such things and moving on. You tried to be with me, I know you tried.

I’m sorry. I feel sorry today. I need to deal with this and allow it to pass through me and to forgive myself. I was just lost: lost in myself, my fear of exposure and disclosure, while being lost in the safety of your love.

We shared so many good times despite this bubble of discontent growing larger and larger until it eventually popped and drowned us in its inevitability. You were so good to me and hopefully you see that at my best moments, in the moments when fear wasn’t present, I was good to you too.

I miss you incredibly. I miss the fact that I wasn’t present in the relationship. I realised today that you went away so many times without me because I just didn’t go with you. Maybe because I had to form lies about where I was going or I’d rather lose myself in hedonism to forget that I was hurting myself so much. And now there’s nothing more I crave than you joining me on my trips that I have planned this year.

You knew that breaking up was the right thing to do even though I wouldn’t have had the courage to make the same and right decision too. The break was needed but I just wish that now you see me to realise that that fear isn’t here anymore. That fear of myself and my sexuality no longer exists because it’s out there. And it’s out there largely because of what we went through. It’s out there because the fear of telling everyone was minute compared to the fear of not spending more time with you.

If I could do it all again, I’d savour every time you told me I was beautiful. I’d smile at your compliments knowing that they came from your heart. I’d jump at the chance to travel with you anywhere you wanted to go and I’d do anything to put a smile on your face. I’d listen and observe your qualities and I would ask you more questions to understand your soul. I’d keep you safe, now that I’m strong in myself, and encourage any thought that you wanted. I’d involve you in my life, I’d want you to see my friends and I’d be proud to have you by my side.

I wish you would give me another chance to show you that this could all be true.

Letting go of you, when I really don’t want to, is going to take time. You are still kind to me and in a way that makes it harder. Deleting your existence would make this process more individual and quicker.

There’s nothing more that I want than your happiness. Happiness is one of temoporary states, such is sadness and any other extreme feeling. I know you will find your peace and moments of endured happiness because of the man you are, and even though I won’t be by your side to share those moments, you deserve it all.

It’s here. Another year. And my 2016 was a full one. Filled with action, adventure, love, family, friends, work and a confession.

Today is one of those days when nostalgia overcomes me and despite what I do, it doesn’t seem to sleep. Memories of him wash over me like a whale washed up on a beach. That whale used to breathe life and it was at one point in the right place at the right time. A melancholy blanket is pulled up to my neck and keeps me warm until the morning time, sometimes tears fall and sometimes they don’t. Today, they do.

**

Memories of us in bed; feeling safe next to your warm body as I stroke the back of your head, your full head of thick brown hair is so soft to the touch. My gut fills with a longing that will stay with me all night. It’s just how I’m built.

Memories of us in your flat; you stand facing the large sliding door window infront of your dj set up and you play another vinyl. I watch your back, the way your neck hangs and your jogger bottoms hang to expose your boxers.

Memories of you in the morning; you sit at the dining table staring out the window, eating your morning orange and drinking your coffee while contemplating your day or thinking about your own country or nothing, thinking about nothing. I don’t know. I never asked. As I climb the spiral wooden stairs, the gaps in bannister poles allow me to see you and I smile. I smile at the thought of being presented with your love. I miss those mornings.

Memories of your embrace; on the sofa, you put your head on my thigh and lie flat out on the sofa and I stroke your hair as we feign interest in what’s on the TV. I loved looking into your eyes as they drooped to sleep. I stroke your face and beard and watch you looking peaceful in my arms.

**

Thoughts like that on days like this flash through my mind. The chapter has been closed. But sometimes, without much persuasion, I flick back through the previous chapter to get lost in the feeling and the person and the moments that made me feel a sense of contentment I hadn’t felt for a long time.